Hold Me Tight
by Twihard99
Summary: She was abused. He was alone. Annabelle and Seth could not be more perfect for each other. Can he protect her from the wrath of her step-father? Can she fill the dark empty void inside of him? SethXAnnabelle


**A/N: Please Review. I own none of Stephenie Meyer's references and characters.**

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Hold Me

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1. Runaway Love

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Annabelle

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It was going to happen tonight.

I was well aware of the signs. I knew by the way Stan walked past my bedroom, back and forth, at least seven or eight times. I knew by the way he muttered under his breath, having silent debates with himself. And I knew by the way he suddenly froze and turned to me, fists balling, and eyes wide with rage.

I didn't understand at all; What triggered him?- but like every night, I didn't move. I watched as he came at me like a charging bull.

A few hours later, I knew it was time. I picked my bruised and battered body from the floor of the room and limped towards my bed, forcing myself to bend down. Such movement caused my ribs to protest and ache. I sucked in a sharp breath and rummaged under my mattress until I found what I was looking for; my backpack.

In this backpack, I had a pair of jeans, a pair of underwear, some t-shirt's and some bottled water. Food was scarce and I had ten bucks to last me. I knew it wouldn't get me far, but it was better than nothing.

I stood erect again and hissed through clenched teeth. Tonight was a bad night for Stan. He was obviously dealing with possible Bankruptcy and had lots of tension on those large, broad shoulders. When he leaned over and whispered crude things in my ear, I could smell a hint of tobacco and vodka on his breath. When he kicked at my face and ribs with his work boots, I also noticed his actions were slurred and slightly misaimed.

He wasn't usually so violent in his beatings, but like I said, the man was stressed, and who better to take it out on then his defenseless step-daughter?

_At least it wasn't Eli, _I thought, straggling for a positive. Speaking of which…

I hobbled towards the door and paused by the hall, looking both ways to make sure the coast was clear. Stan was probably already passed out on the holey sofa in the attic. Nothing would wake him now, but I still remained as silent as possible when creeping towards the room a few meters from mine.

Thankfully, my abusive step father never sought out this room. It was the only room in the house with a lock. I made sure my four-year-old brother took this room when we first moved in a couple of years ago. He locked it each night, under my strict orders.

I knocked on the door twice, paused three seconds, and then knocked again; our secret code. After a short hesitation, I heard the rattle of the chain and the slight groan as the door handle twisted. A tiny silhouette figure peeked through the crack, making sure it was really me.

"Eli," I whispered, and he suddenly bound towards me, wrapping his small arms around my legs. He shook and sobbed, and I felt the wetness seep through my jeans.

"Shh, baby! I'm here!" I stroked his blonde curls, while edging us back into his room. When the door was safely closed, I picked him up and he started ranting.

"I hear it again! I hear it!" He buried his face in the crook of my neck and clung to me for dear life.

"I'm okay, Eli. I'm here! See? I'm not hurt!"

He knew I was lying. The walls of our crappy house were extremely thin and I was positive he heard every _Thump! Whack! Crack! _there was. It usually woke him up at night, and he usually cried himself back to sleep when I was too hurt to comfort him.

"Can we go now?" he whispered against my shoulder.

When I said yes, he leaned back in my arms, trying to find my face in the dark. He thought I was kidding.

"Do you have your backpack?" I asked him.

Like a good little troop, he went straight to his bed and lifted the mattress, just like I had. His Spiderman backpack was also filled with clothes, water and clean underwear. He quickly shrugged it on, and I could see he was trembling with joy. Time to put our plan to action!

Eli clambered towards me, wrapping his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. I tried not to cry out loud, as I went to the window, lifting it every few seconds to stop the hinges from moaning.

The cool night air was like a cold slap in the face. It dried the blood on my nose and lip, and stuck my hair to my forehead like plaster. I'm sure I looked like something that just walked out from a slasher movie. I was grateful it was still dark; Eli could do without the scary image until I found the nearest water supply or bathroom. I already had some places in mind.

"Don't look down! Don't move!" I said, blinking to clear my vision. A couple years back, Stan had caught me trying to run away the first time, and cut down this very tree outside Eli's window with a blunt axe. It didn't work, of course. He was at it for perhaps an hour before he came in and knocked me unconscious with the axe handle. Although the tree was still standing, I could still see the large chunk in the trunk, and the slight unsteady wobble. I prayed it could hold both of us now.

I tried to pretend I was in gym class and was attempting the high ropes. I gripped one branch and then another, until I was safely near the bottom. I almost slipped when jumping down, and it burnt my bruised sides like a hot iron. I wish he could have picked any other time to hit me this hard. It was making escaping just that much harder.

But then my feet squelched into the dry brown grass, and I knew, one way or another, I was finally free.

But before I got too confident, I half-jogged down the darkened street, avoiding the street lights and passing cars. I was glad I wore my black jacket, and kept the hood fastened around my face, hoping to camouflage us into the background. Eli kept his head tucked under my chin. His grip on me never loosened. He didn't want to believe; he didn't want to start hoping until we were a reasonable distance away.

Tonight, I took us towards a friend's house that I had arranged a few days before. We would be sleeping in her cubby house behind the shed in her backyard. Hilary and I both agreed to keep her parent's in the dark, for we knew the social services would be all over us like a rash. I wasn't going to risk being separated from Eli. He was all that had kept me going through my hard childhood.

"We're almost there, Eli! We're almost-" A twig snapped, cutting me off. I barely heard it, but Eli certainly did. He squirmed in my arms and pointed a shaky finger towards the woods around us. My only thought now was: _Please let that be a wild animal! Just not Stan!_

I didn't stop, but picked up my pace, eyeing my surroundings warily. For a flicker of a moment, I swore I saw a flash of fur, but it was gone too quickly for me to be sure. Eli shivered. I was feeling very light-headed.

The next mile was torturous. I kept expecting the frighteningly familiar white truck to flash around the corner and drag us back home, like so many times before. Or perhaps Stan had his shotgun, and decided enough was enough, and finally shoot us like he threatened many of times. My mind continually ran through different scenarios, one gorier than the next.

A howl ripped through the sky, followed by another. It was so close; it sounded just a few feet away. A pack of wild dogs? Wolves? Coyotes? I really hope not.

I noticed my steps started becoming shaky, like I was drunk. I shook my head. It only made it worse.

"Doggy!" Eli cried.

I spun around, which was not smart, considering my dizziness- and tripped, smashing my knee against the concrete. _As if I needed more pain! _But then I saw ten gigantic eyes on me, and the pairs of large white razor teeth, and the hurt was forgotten. These weren't wolves. These were obviously the giant monster things that kids at my school raved about. These were the reason people around La Push no longer went hiking, or camping, or even strolls down the beach. They were huge, furry beasts, the size of horses. I honestly didn't believe Jimmy when he told me they were this big. It didn't seem possible.

I was so wrong. "Oh god!"

Almost simultaneously, the pack of wolves cocked their heads to the side. The obvious alpha let out a small growl, though it sounded like crackling thunder to my ears. I clutched my baby brother tighter, not daring to give into the dizziness that swamped my head. _Stan, Stan, Stan. I was so close to freedom. I was so close..._

That was all I remembered.


End file.
